


Failed

by Strudelgit



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Other, everyone dies but its all fake, literally just psychological trauma porn, mentions of past rape, pregnancy horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 08:44:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11710896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudelgit/pseuds/Strudelgit
Summary: What does Tucker see in his true warrior test?





	Failed

When Tucker jumps through the column of light, he honestly doesn’t know what to expect. His best guess is that this ‘True Warrior Test’ is going to be something like one of Wash’s obstacle courses from hell. Maybe easier. Less cones and live-fire driving tracks at the very least.

 

But it just looks like he’d jumped to the other side of the room.

 

“Uh... “ He turns around, baffled. “Did I miss?”

 

Silence. No one is here.

 

“Guys?”

 

The column of light is gone too. Tucker feels unease trickle down his spine. He unshoulders his rifle, and begins to inspect the room. Still tall, spacious, steel, and pretty much empty. Actually, really empty. No crates, or plant life, or dirt, or anything. A silver haze gives everything a dreamlike quality, and Tucker may not be super experienced with holographic tech, but with the barren, textureless layout of the place, it sure feels like a simulation.

 

A pretty low effort one.

 

“Hey!” He calls out. “Red AI dude- Santa? What’s the test? I think ten bazilion years in sleep mode might have broken some of your shit; there’s nothing here!”

 

A shadow flits across his peripheral somewhere to the left, and Tucker whips his rifle to sights, but nothing is there. The hair on the back on his neck raises, and he can feel his palms start to sweat in his gloves.

 

There’s something in here with him.

 

Uncertainty fills Tucker’s mind as he wonders if he should wait near where he entered in case of any instruction or if he should find some cover; he still has no idea what exactly it is he’s supposed to do here, but if there’s something skulking around in here…. Well. He’s pretty sure a ‘True Warrior’’s test won’t involve negotiating or something equally non-warlike... Or... Fuck, maybe it does? Is this some kind of ‘subvert the thing you’ve been led to believe bullshit’? Sounds like the kind of crap this sort of thing would pull…

 

But on the other hand, all the paranoia in the back of his mind is whispering urgently to him in a voice that sounds like Wash’s. A spark of panic, fanned by the reminders that his Blood Gulch brand of luck has gotten closer and closer to running out... Months of thinking his friends were being tortured or worse, his sacrificed squad, the knife in his gut. They’re all telling him one thing:

 

_ Get out of here! _

 

Ugh, Tucker’s head hurts.

 

He taps his fingers nervously against the barrel until a sound echoes from the hallway behind him. Opposite to where he saw movement.

 

Yeah fuck that. He’s moving.

 

He heads down a hallway, keeping close to the walls and peeking around pillars, but the coast remains clear the entire time. It doesn’t ease his growing anxiety; the moment he thinks he might be bored, or is imagining things, or that this entire ‘test’ was fucking stupid and a huge waste of time and  _ where the fuck is the exit _ , another noise would echo through the temple, another shadow would brush the edge of his vision.

 

The thought that this is all a simulation gets pushed further and further to the back of Tucker’s mind as he continues along. He’s more alert than he’s ever been in his life, and the missing details of before seem to fill themselves in as he continues on and on. There are scratches on the floor, a subtle patina on the metal of the walls, and a faint buzzing of lights illuminating the place.

 

Progress is slow, and it’s probably around an hour before he hits another massive chamber. There’s something lumpy and blue in the middle that Tucker can’t quite make out from where he is. Is this it? Is this part of the test? Does he have to get to it?

 

There’s ample cover in the room… It almost looks like some sort of church: rows of benches and altars in a circular pattern around the place. Tucker risks it, and slips out of his hiding space from the hallway and books it as low as he can to the closest pew. When he peeks out again, he wishes he’d just stayed in the hall. In fact. He wishes he’d never jumped into this freaking laser in the first place.

 

A figure in steel and orange is stalking towards the lump in the center, and there’s no way now of going back without Felix spotting him.

 

_ Fuck! _

 

At the very least…. Tucker seems to have the drop on the douche for once. Tucker watches as Felix reaches whatever’s in the middle of the room. He tilts his head back and forth, and begins  circling around it like a wolf contemplating it’s prey. The mercenary couldn’t look more like a predator than if he had a mouth full of sharp teeth and a pedo-stache.

 

Felix starts speaking to the lump, and Tucker grips his rifle even more tightly as he recognizes Felix’s mocking tone. He can’t quite make out the words from here but there’s one word that Tucker hears crystal clear, and it makes his mind go entirely blank.  _ Abomination.  _

 

Then Felix kicks the lump, and any parent, no matter the species, recognizes their child’s cry.

 

Tucker sees red.

 

“ _ Stay the fuck away from my kid, you son of a bitch!!!! _ ”

 

The rifle’s up and firing and seriously, thank god for Wash’s training, because while Tucker’s always had great aim, hitting Felix is a completely different monster. Especially since the Merc seems to have expected him and dives behind cover immediately, while his terrible laughter echoes loudly and grips it’s claws into Tucker’s brain.

 

Felix dives behind a pew, and Tucker slowly comes around the side, rifle at the ready, but when he makes it around, Felix is nowhere to be seen. Junior lets out a cough, and that distracts Tucker from wherever the hell Felix vanished to.

 

Tucker rushes to Junior’s side. The alien seems dazed, but not terribly hurt. “Junior! Junior! Hey hey! You’re okay kid, yeah? You’re alright?”

 

“...Dad?”

 

A shot of gunfire from a few pews down forces Tucker to swear, and he grips the neck of his son’s armor and drags all 5’11” of him behind the nearest altar as fast as he can. He gets a bullet grazing his arm, but can hardly feel it.

 

“What are you doing here Junior!?” Tucker hisses. A million emotions are swirling in his mind, each fighting for dominance. He still has the remains of absolute, heart-stopping fear of seeing his son at the feet of one of the most dangerous men he’s ever met, fighting with overwhelming joy at seeing Junior again after so many years apart, but the most overwhelming feeling is confusion, mixed with anger because- “You’re supposed to be at boarding school! Sangehelios!!  _ Safe _ !!”

 

“I couldn’t stay, dad!” Junior tries to prop himself up against the steel, but can’t seem to get enough purchase with how dizzy he is. “They said your ship crashed! That you all died! But I knew it wasn’t true, I had to come find you!!”

 

“Jesus christ…” Tucker grips onto Junior’s arm, and, even though there was a gunman in the damn room with them, can’t help but pull his son into an awkward embrace. Fuck. It’s been too long.  _ Too long. _

 

Little has changed. His eyes are the same turquoise color, skin still leathery and dark grey (maybe with a few pimples. Ahhhh, puberty...), and maybe he’s a bit taller now, but he’s still Tucker’s kid. His baby.

 

Which means Felix has to go down,  _ now _ .

 

“Stay down. Whatever you do, whatever happens,  _ stay behind cover. _ ” Tucker hisses to his son, before hauling ass to the row of pews nearest to him. They're made of great thick slabs of stone, so they provide good cover, but they also make it very difficult to pinpoint Felix’s location. Especially since he seems to have moved again.

 

A scuff of boots on marble floor-  _ there!!  _ Tucker pops out of cover and leaps forward to get an angle and- nothing. Gunfire peppers the stone beside him and he swears as he sink back down into cover.

 

“Trying to get the drop on me Tucker?” Felix’s voice reverberates around the room, near, far, it's impossible to tell where it's coming from. “That's adorable. Really.”

 

The lilt of his voice suggests Felix is grinning, and Tucker always thought that tone made him seem like an asshat, now though? It makes him furious.

 

“You stay the fuck away! Maybe you won't end up with a bullet through your head!” Sound to the left? Tucker whips around, but there's nothing again.

 

Felix laughs like it's genuinely the funniest joke he's ever heard. “Me? Oh Tucker, don't flatter yourself.” Where? Where is he? “After all I only have to look out for me, and you? Well…”

 

Tucker glances back frantically at where Junior hides. It looks clear, but Tucker still doesn't know where Felix is.

 

Another laugh. “I have to hand it to you, never thought you'd be the type. Takes a lotta balls to fuck an alien. Except wait,” Felix pauses theatrically as Tucker’s heart sinks. “It's more like the alien fucked  _ you,  _ wasn't it?”

 

Tucker flushes in shame,  _ no, nope, not thinking about it. _

 

“Must've hurt a lot, huh? Tucker? I’ve seen those fuckers. They’re  _ big~! _ ”

 

_ Paralyzing venom coursing through his veins, muscles tearing, drool pooling between his shoulder blades… Church! Tex! Wake up! Help! No, no don't think about-  _

 

Movement again- Tucker shoots and all he gets in return is the crack of stone and cruel laughter echoing, echoing, echoing. A shadow in the corner of his eye. Huge. Foreign.  _ Alien. NOT AGAIN. _

 

He shoots. And Junior falls.

 

Everything. Everything goes muted. Blue blood pools on the ground. Pools in Tucker’s brain. First basketball game. Showing him how to load a gun. Teaching him english. Sunscreen in the desert. Somehow Felix is still talking, like nails on a chalkboard, like words carved into his skull.  _ You killed him. _

 

“No….”

 

“And then giving birth to that fucking thing? You know you're the only person who's ever survived it? Knew a guy, got caught, got fucked, the dino  _ ate its way out of him _ .”

 

“SHUT UP!!!” Tucker screams but it's too late-

 

_ Don't think about it don't remember don't- shooting pains in his gut. Worse than anything he's ever felt in his life. Doc? Where's Doc? _

 

Tucker falls to his knees. Church is there. Caboose is too.

 

“Tucker, what the fuck? Get up!” Church snaps. “Pop a fucking tums or some shit, we don't have time for this!”

 

“It hurts…” It hurts so bad… his insides are being ripped apart…. Tucker  _ killed him _ …. Now he’s gonna kill Tucker back. “please…”

 

Caboose is behind cover at one other altars, and gives Tucker an unimpressed look. “Ugh you are being such a baby Tucker!”

 

Baby… his baby… dead. No… inside him, trying to eat it’s way out.  _ Where’s Doc?  _ Why are the rest of the blues here? Tucker sees Wash, the steel of his armor blending in with the gray of the rock, Tucker isn't surprised that he didn't notice him. Then there's Carolina further down, and okay there's less of an excuse for not having noticed that bright fucking teal.

 

Tucker burps and tastes blood. “Help…” and collapses against the pew, clutching his stomach. Grif shakes his shoulder, Simmons is right next to him, and further down are Donut and sarge.

 

Did they follow him here? This… temple? How did Tucker get here in the first place?

 

He gets one minute to try to remember before a bullet pops through Simmons’s helmet, and the blood spattering out the back coats Tucker's boot. Grif screams before the cyborg’s body even hits the ground.

 

“I only have to look out for me.” Felix, again, echo echo, where the fuck is he? “But you? You care for  _ him.” _

 

Donut gets shot through the throat.

 

“And  _ him,” _

 

Sarge gets two in the shoulder, one through the sternum, and drops.

 

“And  _ her.” _

 

Felix appears behind Carolina and snaps her neck.

 

“And him.”

 

And this  _ isn't possible _ , another Felix appears directly next to Church, while the one who hunted Carolina remains over her body and watches. Church doesn't even seem to notice, focused on an enemy far away.

 

“No… no! Church!”

 

Felix punches through the back Church's armor and pulls out a handful of wires and chips and important looking tech stuff. Holds it up like a trophy before crushing it all in his fist, and Church falls too.

 

“... and him”

 

Grif is shaking Simmons, trying to wake him up, not even reacting as a new Felix steps on his neck and pushes him to the ground before executing him. His blood mixes with Simmons’s and god, did they share that too? Before? Was this poetic somehow? Everything feels fake, feels meaningful, feels poetic when you think you're dying, like the son you killed now killing you from the inside out and Tucker, Tucker can't think, can only shed tears. Only two left.

 

Caboose’s isn't quick. Yet another Felix takes off his helmet and lets Tucker watch as he strangles the life out of him, as his face becomes bloated and purple. His eyes flicker from Felix to Tucker, terrified, betrayed. _ Why aren't you saving me?  _ He can’t,  _ he can’t! _

 

When Wash comes around the corner, all the Felixes vanish like smoke. He sees Tucker on the ground, next to Caboose, next to Grif, next to Simmons. Tucker's crying, he can't stop crying, he fucked up, he fucked it all up. They'd gone to rescue their friends from the Feds but instead he got them killed, he got them all killed…

 

He can't meet Wash’s eyes, so he looks down, the pain in his abdomen now all stems from one point: the knife that's hilt-deep in his side.

 

“I'm sorry…” Tucker manages to stutter out. His words taste wet and coppery. “I failed…. I- I couldn't do it, why did you think I could do it? Why did you believe in me?” His voice finds strength in the hatred he feels for himself. “ALL I EVER DO IS FUCK UP!!!”

 

Wash says nothing for a long while, before…

 

“I did believe in you.” Wash says sadly, disappointed, and that's so much worse than anything Felix could taunt him with. “Not anymore.”

 

And Felix doesn't kill him. They're back now, too many to count. Lining every hall, perched atop the altars and pews. Playing with knives or checking their guns or staring Tucker down in a way that has him feel more naked than any lack of clothing ever has. They simply stand aside and let Wash walk away. He doesn't look back. Not once.

 

And Tucker sobs. He struggles weakly as hands pull at his shoulders, his arms, his hands, his neck.

 

There's a Felix that steps in front of his view, and something tells Tucker, this is him, the first one. The  _ real _ one.

 

The amount of fear it takes to overwhelm his self loathing is extraordinary, but the way Felix runs his hand reverently down his face, trails it down his throat and chest until he reaches the blade manages it. The soulless dome of the mask leans close.

 

“You lose.”

 

And Felix grips the hilt, pulls up, and guts him.

  
  
  
  


It’s the smallest mercy, but Tucker can never be thankful enough for the three hours that Santa gives him to collect himself before being thrown back out into the real world to face Church and Caboose and Grey and Carolina and-

 

_ It’s just part of the deal. _

 

It’s not the temple, he’s in some sort of big white space. Blank. With nothing but the exit beam before him. He’d lied down, unable to stop shaking for the first hour. The truth of the real world eventually overtaking the horrifying realness of the simulation. All in all, it was like coming out of an extremely vivid dream. Where it took him a while to categorize what was real, and what was not.

 

That the simulation had blended the two so seamlessly is what made it so hard. All had been  _ what ifs?  _ That had at one point or another crossed Tucker’s mind. What if he’d died giving birth? What if Wash lost that undeserved faith in him? What if he’d gotten Grif and Simmons and Caboose killed trying to save him? What if Felix had killed him at the radio tower?

 

He  _ hadn’t _ fucked up though. Everyone’s still alive. Junior’s still at boarding school. 

Tucker’s plan had  _ worked _ , and the scar on his stomach should be a mark of victory, of pride. Not fear. He survived Felix. He will survive Felix  _ again _ .

 

He’s survived a lot. He’s survived O’mally half blowing him up. He survived Wyoming trying to assassinate him. He survived the desert. He survived  _ Crunchbite _ .

 

Tucker takes a deep breath before stepping into the exit. He’s gonna survive this war, and he’ll make damn sure everyone else will too.


End file.
